


Red String of Fate

by verywellfandango



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verywellfandango/pseuds/verywellfandango
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the gods tie an invisible red string around the ankles of men and women who are destined to be soul mates and will one day marry each other. If that's so, I suppose I never really had a choice in the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red String of Fate

Red.

Red hair. It's her predominant feature. You could spot her from a thousand yards with that hair. Or maybe that's just me. I do always look for her wherever I go. I can't help it, really - you'd do the same if you ever laid eyes on her. It's like looking into the sun, your eyes hurt from the brilliance of it all. And don't even get me started on her smile. I almost lost my marbles the first time she smiled at me, really smiled at me. She does funny things to me, she does.

The hair, though. It's pretty much all I can remember of her from our first encounter. Waves of the stuff whipping through the air as she flounced out the compartment. Smelled nice, too. Not that she's ever not smelled nice - Whenever I get near her, I feel like I'm in a meadow full of exotic flowers. I'd rather not know what shampoo she uses, I fear I'd buy a case and perpetually sniff the stuff, like some love-crazed loon. It's bad enough that that's all I smell whenever I get near Amortentia.

She's let it grow over the years, and she's always doing something to it, putting flowers or feathers in it, pulling it up with chopsticks, making complicated looking braids - It always looks nice, but I like it best when it's loose and everywhere, she's always been irresistible to me like that. It's a favourite pastime of mine, imagining my hands running through it, holding the shining locks, all mine and at my disposal. Now, don't think I have some sort of obsession with hair, or some sort of hair pervert. It's just her hair. You'd understand if you'd see it, trust me.

I guess Merlin and Cupid and the whole universe was on my side, when I won her over. I never thought the day would come, but it did. You should see the Patronus I can make when I think of that moment, in which she agreed to go out with me. Her hair looked especially shiny and pleasant that day, I recall. And extremely soft when I ran my hands through it during our first kiss. Oh, what a kiss that was.

You'd think now that we're dating, the thrill of running my hands through her hair would go away, but it doesn't let up. Call me a girl, but I can't think of a better way to spend my time than lie with her and play with it. The sight of her by my side and the smell of her, and the cascades of curls in my hand... talk about sensory overload.

Padfoot's got this odd fetish with mythology and whatnot; he once told me some Asian tale about some git who threw a rock at a girl and then married her (I forget the details). Apparently, the point of the story was to explain how we're connected by a red string to our soul mates, destined lovers unaffected by time or place.

Call me idealistic and unrealistic and all the 'istics' you can think of, but that story's all that springs to mind lately when I look at Lily's gloriously red hair. Okay, so what if we're barely of age, still in school and basically hormonal adolescents who know nothing of the world? She's the missing piece to my puzzle, the fork to my knife, the butter to my toast. If the red string stuff's true, then well, what'd you know? I've got thousands of strings that'll keep me with her for all eternity.


End file.
